Give Up
by AngstyAly
Summary: Sam finds a way to save dean from the virus in 'Croatoan' he'll do anything no matter the price.


_**Okay, so don't yell at me I'm just starting out. Anyway this is the scene from Croatoan where Dean and Sam are on the verge of giving up. It splits off in the end and at the moment the plot is still developing but at the moment this little fic has at least five chapters. Read, enjoy, and review please!**_

Dean came closed the door with a click as the lock slid into place. Sam could see his shoulders hunching as he gathered a breath.

"Wish we had a deck of cards, a foozeball table or something." Dean said carelessly as he turned around with a shrug, as if today was any other day, as if this were any other place.

"Dean," Sam's tried to keep his tone reasonable and failed. He was shaking too hard. "Don't do this. Just get the hell out of here."

"No way." They both knew that when Sam died or turned crazy or whatever the hell it was that would happen in this room, Dean wouldn't fight it. He'd take on monsters, wrestle demons, shit, he'd even get on a doomed plane. But he wouldn't face life without Sam. He couldn't.

Sam took a deep breathe, he knew what had to be done. "Give me my gun, and leave." The words were unsteady, Sam didn't want to die but he sure as hell didn't want to... turn.

Dean looked at him, really looked at him, not one of those mischievous glances, but the long look of a man who wouldn't budge.

"For the last time Sam, no."

Sam felt anger slam into him. Dean was being selfish, he would let Sam become on of those monsters, would let Sam kill him. But a Winchester was stronger than that. He slammed his bandaged hand onto the examination table. He didn't care about pain anymore, that was behind him already long gone. Dean turned slowly to face his brother, the usual cocky glint back in his face.

It only served to anger Sam even more.

"This is the dumbest thing you've ever done." He hissed.

"I don't know about that, remember that waitress in Tampa? Ugh."

Sam didn't laugh, the tears had started to fall but he let them stay on his cheeks. He had to make him _see_. "Dean, I'm sick. It's over for me." The light in Dean's face died and he opened his mouth to argue, but Sam plowed on. "It doesn't have to be for you."

"No?" Anger clouded the elder brother's face, Sam could see that this was hurting him, but he needed to accept it.

"No. You keep going." Sam insisted. Dean would have to live. He was indestructible, the strong one.

"Who says I want to?" The answer was so short, so fast, so unexpected that it took Sam a second to comprehend the words.

"What?"

Suddenly this wasn't the Dean that Sam knew. This was a stranger, someone old and unbearably weary. The spark of life that had so often annoyed and frustrated Sam was gone.

"I'm tired Sam." Dean tried to smile as if they were talking about something that didn't matter, but he looked close to tears himself. "I'm tired of this job, this life, this weight on my shoulders, man." He sat on a desk and laid his guns down as if they had suddenly grown too heavy. His eyes glistened strangely in the fluorescent light. "I'm just tired of it"

Sam gaped at his brother. Dean couldn't be giving up. Dean was indestructible. Him talking like this was like defying gravity, it was crazy, unreal.

"So what, you're just going to give up? I mean you're just going to lay down and die? Look Dean, I know the stuff with dad, I-"

Dean shook his head. "You're wrong."

Sam looked up sharply.

"It's not about dad." Dean swallowed and took a deep breath. "A part of it sure but..." He faded into silence looking into the distance with unusually sad eyes..

"Then what is it about?" Asked Sam impatiently, trying to snap his brother out of his reverie.

Dean paused, his eyes now totally focused on Sam. He opened his mouth to reply but a knock the door cut him short.

Both brothers tensed at the noise and Dean picked up his gun from the table and opened the door, the doctor stood just outside.

"You better come look at this."

Dean sighed and looked back at Sam. What he saw scared him. It was as if Sam were once again sixteen and bailing him out of jail. Hunting was hard, especially on kids with wide eyes and an imagination. Sam had always tried to do the right thing, always trying to find a compromise, but sometimes Dean could see something in his eyes, a darkness that was always lurking behind those shiny puppy dog smiles.

And suddenly it wasn't Sam in the room. There was something sweet and sad. Something that scared Dean because Sam had given up.

Dark eyes were empty, tears that had spilled in anger, pain, and sadness had stopped.

This person who sat on the examination table wasn't his brother.

He looked back at the doctor. "What's wr-"

He stopped abruptly as something slammed into his back, pushing him forward out of the room and into the hallway.

Dean spun around, regaining his balance almost instantly but his hands slammed into the door just a moment too late. It locked under his hands. Frantically he banged on the door, rattling the standard plastic wood.

"Sam!"

_Had something gotten into the room? A poltergeist maybe? No, a spirit that strong would have caused more damage by now... a spirit? Demon?_

A face snapped into the small window, Dean stumbled back with a curse, Just Sam. Sam, his cheeks still wet with tears. Sam holding a gun.

Dean slapped a hand to his empty holster, he had left his gun on the table.

"Sam," He said carefully, his voice soft. "Sam, open the door."

"I'm not going to let you die Dean." His voice was slightly muffled both by the door and the tears that seemed to be choking him.

"Sammy, put the gun down."

Sam shook his head, hazel eyes stubbornly set.

_**Well, Yeah... My first ever Supernatural fic. Let's see how it goes down with the fans. Love y'all! And as always REVIEW!!! I'm new at this supernatural stuff... I'm only fifteen so I'll just get angsty if you flame me.**_

_**Anyway, thanks for reading and hopefully reviewing**_


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